Chapter 10
A year later.
Freddy’s second birthday.
The backyard was strung with blue and yellow balloons, the same colors as the cake I’d bought the year everything fell apart. A small sign on the fence said FREDDY’S SWEET SHOP: BIRTHDAY EDITION.
There were no pickup trucks blocking the driveway.
No loud music.
No strangers drinking my liquor and eating my food.
Just the people we loved.
Amy’s parents, laughing as they chased Freddy around the yard. My dad, who’d disowned mom years before, sitting at the picnic table, flipping burgers. Aunt Linda and the cousins who’d stood by us, helping pass out cake and ice cream. Our neighbors, the ones who’d brought us meals when we first came home, who’d watched Freddy so Amy and I could sleep.
Freddy ran past me, his blue cape flapping behind him, yelling “I’m Superman!”
He was happy.
Healthy.
Loud.
No sign of the feverish, quiet baby I’d carried out of that kitchen a year before.
Amy was by the cake table, wearing that same blue dress, her hair pulled back in a loose braid, laughing as Freddy tried to grab a handful of frosting before we sang. Her bakery was thriving—she’d just signed a lease on a small commercial kitchen downtown, her dream since she was a teenager. She was going to hire two part-time girls the next month.
She looked over at me and smiled.
I walked over, wrapping my arm around her waist.
“Ready?” I asked.
She nodded.
We gathered everyone around the table.
I lit the two candles on the cake—blue, with a little plastic Superman on top.
We sang Happy Birthday.
Freddy blew out the candles on the first try, pumping his little fists in the air and yelling “I did it!”
Everyone cheered.
I cut the cake, passing out slices, while Amy wiped frosting off Freddy’s cheeks.
After everyone had eaten, I pulled Amy aside, over by the old oak tree at the edge of the yard.
I handed her an envelope.
She frowned, wiping her hands on her dress.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Open it,” I said.
She tore open the envelope.
Inside was the deed to the house.
It had both our names on it now.
Typed under the names, in my messy handwriting, were three lines.
This home is yours.
This life is ours.
Forever safe.
She read it, then looked up at me, her eyes filling with tears.
“Connor,” she whispered.
“I wanted you to know,” I said, my voice thick. “This isn’t just my house. It’s yours. Everything I have is yours. Always. No one can ever take it from you. No one can ever make you feel like you don’t belong here. Because you do. You and Freddy. You’re my home.”
She threw her arms around my neck, crying into my shoulder.
“I love you,” she said, over and over. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” I said, holding her tight.
We stood there for a long time, holding each other, watching our son play.
He was chasing a butterfly across the grass, his cape flying, laughing so loud his little belly shook. The sun was warm on our faces, the air smelled like cake and cut grass, and the people we loved were all around us, happy, safe, together.
Amy leaned her head on my shoulder, watching him.
“I never thought we’d get here,” she said, her voice quiet. “After everything that happened… I never thought I’d feel this safe. This loved. This happy.”
I kissed the top of her head.
“We earned it,” I said. “Every second of it.”
She looked up at me, that bright, beautiful smile on her face.
“Forever?” she asked.
I looked at our son.
At our family.
At the life we’d built together, out of the ashes of the worst thing that had ever happened to us.
I smiled.
May you like
“Forever,” I said.
And for the first time in my life, I knew it was true.
